A Little Psychology Among Friends
by chiryoushi
Summary: Kitsune, having dragged Keitaro into an evening of drinking, expounds her opinions of his situation... with interesting results.
1. A Little Psychology Among Friends

_Authnote: I've just finished reading _Red Shift_ by Alan Garner, which is why this is about 95 dialogue. I've always liked Kitsune X Keitaro, but have often felt the 'softening' of her character toward him is wrong. She seems to remain a sake-guzzling, gambling, manipulative vagrant throughout the manga and anime, so I think I managed to keep her in character while still pairing her up with Kei._

_Obligatory Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own anything but a DVD boxset of Love Hina. Akamatsu owns the rest of it._

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_**28 July 2012**: Wow, I haven't been here for a long, long time. And of course I have money problems and job problems and life problems, but heck, if you can't take a few hours out to edit and tweak something you like and just give it that layer of polish you've been meaning to for all of these years... what's the point? Accents removed, as they didn't help and I've no idea if I can keep up an accent like hers consistently. A little description added, but not too much. Imagination is key here, at least for the latter half of this Wall of Dialogue. Please enjoy!  
_

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**_A Little Psychology Among Friends  
_**_or_**_  
Alcohol Makes a Good Lubricant_****_  
_**

"Keitaro, I've often wondered. What exactly... drives you?"

"Er..."

"I'll tell you what makes me tick. Winning the game. Making people move in the ways I want them to move. But I've got to ask - what keeps you going?"

"No way am I going to answer that, Kitsune. It's like painting a big target on my ass and handing you a rifle. What about the others? What makes them go?"

"It's all negative. Everyone's driven by fear, eventually. I'm trying to work out if all of your stubbornness comes from the fear of not being able to live up to that one promise..."

Keitaro blustered. Kitsune's eyes narrowed just that little bit - confirmation in the form of denail.

"Negative? I... I mean... Fear? You've got a real nice outlook on the world, Kitsune."

"Heh! Yeah, fear and negativity. Everyone's scared of something. Little Shinobu - her parents. If she goes back to them, she'll have to explain why exactly she chose to stay here instead of going with one of them. She's terrified that they'll renounce her, or something. Su's scared of having power. She goes home, she has to take on her country's throne sooner or later. She knows how often she does bad, so she's scared she'll mess up something awful with all that authority. Everyone's got a reason to keep going, and everyone's reason is based on the one thing they really fear. They build all sorts of crap around themselves to keep themselves going and make sure they don't have to ever face that fear head-on. Cowards, the lot of us."

"What about Motoko? She's not scared of anything!"

"You really don't pay attention, do you?" A smirk from the elegant woman - perhaps even a hint of fondness. "Motoko's scared stiff that she'll screw up when she takes over the clan dojo. She trains hard to try to bring herself up to the standard she reckons she should be at, but she's a major perfectionist. It's going to be hard for her."

She handed him the rice wine. He declined.

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. You say everyone's afraid of something. What're you so scared of?"

She let out a long, slow breath. It guttered for a moment, but then she inhaled and inner strength came from somewhere and she started to speak again.

"Getting too close. Don't ever want to be too close to someone. Always feel like I can't breathe, always freak out, and then I always break his heart." She shakes her head, as if to clear away the dust. "What about you, Kei?"

He drained half an _ochoko_ of sake. It seemed to give him strength.

"I fear... what people will think of me if I don't manage to keep my word. And... I think I kinda fear not fitting in. You know. I always had the dream of a wonderful relationship leading to marriage with the girl I pledged to join, and I guess that was because I wanted to be another happy student and I didn't want to let her down... because I can't stand it when people hate me, and I always knew she'd hate me if I couldn't make it in..."

"So that's it, huh? I should have guessed. You're scared of being rejected by Naru when you finally ask her?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm more scared of what she'll think of me when she finds out I don't just see her as a friend."

"Well. Let me... Let me warn you, Kei. She... doesn't love you."

"Wha... huh... what makes you so sure?"

He took another draught of the rice wine. She reached over and tousled his hair.

"She's scared of having to fend for herself when she gets into Tokyo U. She's always been scared of being alone. She lets it confuse her and make her think she's in love. She did it with Set, and she's doing it with you."

"That's... an unhappy thing to happen. She's... not happy, is she? And... it makes enough sense that it makes me really sad, too."

"I'm sorry, Kei. Shouldn't have said it, no sir. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's alright. Sad things have gotta be said. You're an author, so you know. Besides. It's one of those things. Admissions. I guess, ever since I saw her interacting with Seta... I knew. It's just... just a question of whether I can keep that in mind after tonight. Sometimes I bury those things."

"Damn straight. I'm just sorry it had to make you so sad too."

"It's okay."

"Then..." Mitsune Konno did not often look sad, but then and there she simply could not help it. "...why are you crying, Kei?"

"It's... it's just... what you said before. About fear, I mean. It always drives people?"

"Every time I've looked, Kei. Every damn time. So many lonely people, all because they're afraid to do the right things; take the important risks."

"So that means... none of the Hinata girls really like me? Looks to me like they're all here because they're afraid, they all look up to me in some way because I run this place now, and they all feel kinda obliged to be interested in me because that's what pop culture says they gotta do, and they're scared to fly in the face of public opinion. Am I... am I about right?"

"Sounds like it to me. I'm sorry it's all so sad, Kei..."

"It's very sad... why does it have to be that way? The whole situation is, you know. Every bit of it."

The rice wine was passed back and forth.

"Hey, Kitsu. Don't you think all this fear... has got to be fought somehow?"

"You're sounding sensible again, Kei. Is that what happens when you get drunk? You go straight out through the other side?"

"Yeah, I think fear should be fought. But you already know what I'm afraid of. Are you suggesting something?"

"Yeah, I guess I am. What do you think... about pairing off? You and me? I can announce it, fight my fear of opinions, and you could face-off against your intimacy thing."

She looked at him, then her _ochoko_, then back to him. Another deep breath, and she stared at the ceiling as she spoke.

"Any other guy, I'd be making like Naru right now and freaking the hell out. But you? You've been a responsible guy around here for a couple of years now, and here's the thing. I... I kinda feel like I can trust you. I'd never through about it like that before. I don't think you'd ever let anyone down, now, would you? I can let you in. And that's... what the hell is that. It's me, not freaking out at the concept of closeness. Well, maybe that's just the alcohol talking. Yeah."

Her eyes fell away from the ceiling, landed on him, and she grinned.

"Get your lap ready for it's sexiest burden ever, Kei. And remember, you ain't to be afraid of what I'll think of you, either."

"I know. You're even curvier than you look, Kitsu. Your waist's perfect! And... wow, you're soft and everything!"

"Mm, just you keep treating me this way, Kei. Much appreciated... very much. God, I can feel your six-pack. I'm impressed! All those sit-ups, yeah?"

"And all the walking. Trams are too expensive. What's this?"

"Always wear stuff like that. Guess it's part of the fear of intimacy. Self-objectification, maybe? Ugh, doesn't sound so good now."

"It's nice on you, but I always kinda hoped you'd just wear white or pink. Something a bit more innocent under the foxpelt."

"I'll buy some. For me to wear when I'm with you. Hey, Kei, intimate's sounding kinda nice to me now."

"Sounds nice to me too, Kitsu. And I know a good test for us."

"Are you going to show your wickedness yet?"

"I'm not abnormally wicked, you know. Maybe about half as twisted as one of those really timid businessmen. But I'll show that if you want."

"Yes please."

"Alright. But then I tell you the test."

The rice wine went ignored for a while. Kitsune's full _ochoko_ spilt a little.

"So... what's this test of yours, Kei?"

"When we're both ready to really fight the fear, we say so the others can hear, 'I love you.'"

"Fwee. You're confident with booze in you. Hope that doesn't die away too badly come morning. We've gotta have a rule for that test. We've gotta feel it, honest-like. Then we can say it. Deal?"

"Deal. You're still thirsty?"

"Yeah. Gonna see how much more I can get outta this before I gotta give up for the night."

"Maybe two more rounds, I reckon. You're very bouncy this evening."

"Comes of what I'm doing, Kei. You're standing pretty straight, considering the booze."

"I'm good at concentrating when there's a beauty involved."

"Heh, cute line. You're sounding pretty lovey-dovey there, Kei. Feeling it?"

"Yeah, definitely feeling it. You?"

"Mm-hmm. It's warm. I'm not afraid of letting you get close, I think. Might take me a while to get used to it."

"Kitsu. You're a foxy gorgeous girl, and you're damn clever when it comes to people. I should have let you abuse me more before tonight."

"I'm gonna try to never abuse you, Kei. It's not my best habit. But please... forgive me if I do, yeah?"

"Okay, Kitsu. And you forgive me if I get scared of what the others think, yeah?"

"Okay. I'm gonna have to snuggle up against you now. Feeling real tired. Wanna be warm."

"If we were at the Inn, we'd be dead come morning."

"We're safe. Now lemme snuggle. Tired..."

"Goodnight, Kitsu. Always dreamed of what it'd be like to wake up with you next to me."

"Glad to hear it..."

"Sleep well, beautiful girl."

"You too, cute guy."


	2. Machinery

_**28 July, 2012**: As before. I haven't been on here in a horribly long time and now my writing style has changed. So, to get myself back up to speed on this story, and to trim out the deadweight that I don't feel belongs any more, I'm tweaking and editing the story from the beginning. This'll put me in a decent position to get back into the actual writing, and it'll present a slightly different and slightly more complete picture to new and old readers alike.  
_

_Can I just say that this story has had more than 18,000 views in its time on this site, and that flabbergasts me. I'm sorry for having left it so long to get back into the groove, and I hope enough of the people who have this story on Watch haven't deactivated their accounts yet.  
_

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_**Machinery  
**or  
**Not Haunted, Just Old  
**_

Haruka Urashima was a quiet woman. She woke up with the sun and often didn't speak a word until she met one of the residents, which was usually sometime in the late morning. Kaolla and Sara would usually come out to play, running wild with their imaginations. It was nice to see their energy.

This morning was a different matter. The guest rooms of the Hinata teahouse had been empty for three years, but still she checked them after waking up. It was a ritual that allowed her to stretch her legs, breathe in the musty air and feel the nostalgia in the place.

The presence of a sleeping Konno Mitsune did not come as a surprise. Haruka had noticed Keitaro sneaking out earlier in the morning, and this scene just confirmed his reason for doing so. She watched from the barely-open door as the sleeping girl stirred.

"Ke-..." Kitsune's arms clasped at something that wasn't there. She slumped back down under the futon cover. "Guess y' chickened out after all, huh?"

The sound of muffled tears. Now was the time to burst in...

"Good morning, Konno! What're you doing here in the teahouse? Drunk enough that you couldn't find your way home last night?"

...and pretend you have no idea why she's here. Haruka nudged the abandoned bottle of sake with her toe. It rolled across the floor-mats in a lazy arc, sloshing quietly, and bounced off Kitsune's head.

The shapely girl clutched the back of her head with a groan. "Haruka..."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I guess I should have woken you up a bit more gently, huh? And just how much did you overdo it last night?"

"I... I didn't. Not really." There was still emotion in the girl's voice. No craft, no deceit, just raw unhappiness. "Haruka. Your nephew sucks, you know? He really... he just..."

"Hey..." This was unexpected, though. Kitsune never cried. Not on anyone's shoulder. Certainly never since she'd arrived at the Inn. She was the firebrand, the one who could never be hurt, the laid-back girl with sensual attitude. And beneath that, she was - almost predictably, Haruka thought guiltily - an alcoholic who seemed to be on a path to self-destruction at the hands of violent men and vicious drinks.

Was it... even _slightly_ conceivable that the girl had developed a serious emotional link with Haruka's nephew?

The teahouse owner knelt awkwardly by Konno's futon and held the girl as she shed tears onto her shoulder, swaddled with the bedcovers. Why was Kitsune so sensitive all of a sudden? What had Keitaro done?

"Konno," she said. "This is seriously confusing. What's up?"

A pause in the tears, a deep sniffle and a muffled word. "I went, and I found an excuse to be close to him, Haruka... because I knew he was afraid of her, and I wanted to take a chunk outta him... and maybe me as well. God, how pathetic. Can I... can I quickly ask, Haruka, how stupid and little-girlish I am for still having self-esteem issues?"

Wait, what? These tears weren't because of something he'd done... but regret? On her part?

"Everyone has them, Konno. This country's not good for self-esteem. Protocol is to put yourself down as much as possible, make the other guy look better than you. I guess you ended up taking all that a bit too far to heart, huh?" Haruka closed her eyes. "So why are you crying?"

"I really enjoyed it," she said, her voice still quivering. "I spent the night with him and I really enjoyed it. And that's... I mean, my God, Haruka. I go out in the evenings and I have to hope I don't get molested. And there's some part of me that's saying _go on, little girl, just you get yourself raped in some back alley... that'll be roundabout what you deserve, won't it?_ And... I felt safe with him. I really did. And now he's gone and I don't know what to feel... Naru wants him, I know she does, and she deserves him a whole lot more than I... but... but I want him too, and... I don't think I've never wanted before. Not like this."

"You love my nephew?"

"I guess..."

"Well. He's a hard worker, and he's surprisingly honourable and moral. Determined, though maybe for the wrong reasons. Kinda cute if you look at him the right way. I can safely say that if he had a bit more self-confidence, he'd be girl-bait. And if you're in love with him, I'm gonna say... go for it. Let's be honest, Konno. You need someone like him, because otherwise you're gonna go irrational again someday and really wreck yourself something awful. But it's gonna be a fight."

"I dont want to fight Naru for him. We got rocky enough over Seta, and I gave up on him as soon as she started looking, felt like. She still hasn't even worked out where his heart really is. And I've known her for one hell of a long time, Haruka. I don't want to lose a friend, yeah?"

Haruka sighed. She had no more words. Fear was driving at Konno from both sides. She had to contend with the possibility of either losing her mind or losing her best friend, with no in-between states. She just held the girl by the shoulders until more words came.

"This is where you have to summon up all your strength and make a decision. It almost doesn't matter which one it is, but you have to have the conviction to stick with it and the capacity to accept that, although bad things may happen, you chose them along with the good things." Haruka blinked. "I don't think that made much sense-"

"No, it did." Konno sat up, gathering the covers around herself. "I have to choose one path, because if I stay at this crossroads then I'm never going to get any of the positive possibilities ahead of me. God, the number of times I've said that to someone else. So much easier to see these things from outside the situation, I guess..."

"Something like that. You have a choice?"

"All or nothing." Her self-confident grin was back. "I want the boy. And it might take me a while to work out how to do it, but I'm going to knock out Naru's interest in him somehow. This girl's got a brutal understanding of the human heart. Even Naru can be changed. And when I'm in a situation - you've seen me in action, Haruka - I just keep going. When I've got the guts to go forward with it, anyways."

"Glad to hear it." Haruka flashed her a warm smile. She fully expected to be Konno's first port of call when the things went wrong. "Now you clean up and get dressed, and scoot yourself back to the Inn. Looks like Keitaro wasn't noticed, so you can just put it down to a nasty night on the town..." She sniffed a few times. "...and I'll wash the bedding. And if you need me to help in any way, just gimme a shout. Okay?"

And this time, a truly happy smile. No masks, no cover, just the low-key radiation of happiness from Konno's mind, projected out through the crinkle of her eyes, the dimples in her cheeks and the upward curl of her lips. "Thanks, Haruka. I owe you... several thousand."

"Well, whatever. I'd quite like to see things go this way too, so let's not call it a debt."

"I'm outta here, then. Some decency would be nice."

"Righto." Haruka left the room, sliding the door shut behind her. Konno was getting better at acting, that was for sure. She was projecting so much confidence now, but earlier words were clinging to Haruka's memory.

_"And there's some part of me that's saying go on, little girl, just you get yourself raped in some back alley..."_

"Konno, you're going to need a lot more strength than that..."

It was probably luck that Haruka knew far better than Konno how to screw around with the minds of others. And it was probably luck that she even knew how to manipulate Naru, where Konno would fail.

Haruka Urashima had a busy day ahead.

She got to work.


	3. Tetrahedral Watermelons

_Yeeesh..._

_Sorry this update took so long. I've had about fifteen minutes free every day to add to this over the last three weeks - unexpected work and a visiting grandmother will do that to time. I won't set myself a deadline for the next update, but the ones after that should be much more punctual and regular._

_Please read and enjoy, and hopefully even review!_

ーゾウゼン！

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**Tetrahedral Watermelons And Their Applications In Advanced Coersion Tactics  
**Or,**  
Mutsumi Joins The Fight.**

Morning crept across the Hinata apartments, bringing with it a fiery sky. The massive building was bathed in reds and oranges and the ground around it was punctuated with long slashes of black - the shadows of the shorter trees, made long by the slant of the sun.

Otohime Mutsumi walked through the dawn, eyes half-lidded against even the feeble morning light. Her mahogany hair flew around her, caught in the sometimes violent zephyrs that built up along the great stairway. She took the stairs at a slow and easy pace, and all of a sudden Konno Mitsune was walking alongside her.

"My, Kitsune... I didn't think you woke up so early!" Otohime's gentle face registered pleasant surprise, and Kitsune grinned right back. Then she pointed a gun hand at her own temple and pulled the imaginary trigger.

"My own fault. Crappy night out on th' tiles, 'n' I was woken sooner than I'd'a liked by 'n unwelcome intrusion. 'M gettin' back t' my room righ' now, then I'm pullin' down th' blackouts 'n' sleepin' off this 'eadache." And indeed, there were nasty-looking bags under the voluptuous woman's eyes. "'Ow 'bout you, miss Low Blood Pressure? I wouldn't'a pegged y'as wakin' b'fore 'bout eight, m'self."

"Oh, I always get up early. I was thinking of joining Urashima and everyone for breakfast, but I've been thinking that for a long time and every time I just sit on the roof to eat some of my packed lunch. It seems I can't even summon up the courage to go in there and ask. It's a bit silly of me, really, but I always feel like I want to approach Keitaro like a true Japanese woman."

They trudged up the stairway together.

Kitsune broke the weird silence. "By 'true Japanese woman', y'mean..."

"To stay always three paces behind. Always watch his kindness and his light, regard him as though he is a work of art that can never be truly attained, and wait - and hope - that maybe his attention will focus on me some day." Otohime looked enrapt by this ideal of old-style romance.

"Wow. Tha's pretty old-fashioned, Mutsumi. An' I'll be honest - crossed signals, yo. Y'kissed Kei - an' Naru too, come t'think of it - full on th'lips durin' tha' ADD-riddled countryside romp righ' up 'n' down th' length o' Japan." Kitsune regarded the spacey, shaky girl with inquisitive eyes. Her instincts were still firing full-on, even through the haze of post-alcoholic stress. And when she looked closely enough, there was a faint impression of Haruka under the pleasant, relaxed and reassuringly weak face of Otohime Mutsumi.

"My my, that's totally different! The French kiss when they greet, the English kiss a lady's hand when they meet her for the first time, the Italians kiss the fingers of their religious leaders! I was just saying thankyou to both of them. It's my way." She smiled warmly at Kitsune, who nearly found herself taken in by the pleasant girl's appearance.

They reached the top of the stairway and nearly went their own ways. Then Kitsune said: "Mutsumi? I think y'oughta ask t'day. Little Shinobu loves cooking, she'll gladly make enough t'include ya. An' I can't see that anyone else'd have any problems wi'your presence."

"Oh my... Well! Thankyou for your words, Miss Konno! I think I'll sneak up to the roof again today, but when we're in our study session then I'll be sure to ask." The faint-hearted girl smiled once more and turned about with a fond wave. "Seeya!"

Konno Mitsune's headache was completely gone. Her mind was working too fast to be hampered by a little hangovery bleariness. And it was analysing every part of what Mutsumi had said and ever facet of her face during their conversation. As she took the stairs back to her room, all sleepiness and discomfort packaged into one tiny pulsing package just in front of each ear, she congratulated herself for inviting Mutsumi to ask if she could join the household at breakfast time. That would put her in a complex social environment early in the morning, and that was the perfect setting to peer through every chink in the Okinawan's elaborate, soft armour.

She got to her room with no real incident. Naru regarded her with one of those resigned sighs she'd been using for something like the last... eighteen months? It really was something like that. They'd all been in this happy little group for nigh-on three years now, so that would make the anniversary of The Argument about eighteen, maybe nineteen months ago.

She pulled down the blackouts that Keitaro had installed for her some time ago, mind still racing. That little gleam in Mutsumi's eye, the one that said "Here I am, I'm just like Haruka, but I'm hidden away so you should be that much more frightened of me... I wonder if you'll even see me in time?" The tension in her jaw when Kitsune had pointed out Mutsumi's past history of a very tactile approach to affection. The tiny dilation in her eyes when she'd expected Kitsune to mention Keitaro when encouraging her to ask if she could join the breakfast party.

Mutsumi must not have been on good form today, though. Kitsune's head had been all foggy from the aftereffects of the booze and Keitaro's completely uncharacterstic ministrations last night. Maybe it had been the earliness. Maybe Mutsumi needed that time up on the roof to solidify her facade.

Whatever would have happened if Kitsune hadn't seen it? That first miniscule hole in the fascia?

Her head was full of suppositions and postulations, thoughts and considerations. She devoured half a litre of water from the small chiller-box she kept in her room and felt the packets of pain dissolving away as the cooling balm rushed from the core of her body out to every inch of her skin, relieving aches and pains as it went.

She knew all about the biochemistry of water, from her first couple of attempts to apply to Tokyo University, before she had given up and applied the by-far-dominant creative half of her mind to the practice of crafting written words. Now she was half-tempted to join in the next round of attempts to get in to the university. Her written words had been failing lately, and the only work she had was reporting the most interesting events around the Inn to a man called Akamatsu, who promised her a stepping-stone to the higher ranks of literature if she gave him good material.

Yeah, right. She'd signed up to the contract, pretty desperate for money. Three weeks later, a quick internet-search at a local netcafe had sunk her hopes completely. He was involved in literature, sure, but he didn't write books or poetry or love-stories or anything like that. Manga. He was a damned Manga author. Sure, he'd scored pretty well with _A. I. Love You_, but that wasn't real writing.

But there was one thing she'd read while looking him up. There was this one site that tried to take its readers through the methods of creating a good manga. One of them included making in-depth, highly-detailed psych sheets about each character and using them to keep track of their decisions and dialogue throughout.

It couldn't be so hard to do the whole thing in reverse, could it?

Kitsune hauled her old hiragana-typewriter out of the cupboard, rolled in a sheet of paper and started typing. She figured that an easy subject would be best to start with. Keitaro or Shinobu? They were both simpletons compared to the rest of the household.

She typed out 'Keitaro Urashima', and managed to jot down a couple of his more interesting reactions to old situations before the headache returned with a vengeance. She had to leave the typewriter, down one of the many small bottles of spring water she kept in her room and lie down with her eyes closed for some time before the pain began to recede. She heard Keitaro, Naru and Mutsumi start up their little study group - their voices quickly died to nothing as they all got stuck, probably on the nastier maths problems.

Everyone knew what it meant when Kitsune wasn't around in the mornings, and that had hopefully been corroborated by Keitaro and Mutsumi. Her drinking habits weren't exactly a secret.

For a dark moment, she wondered what her parents would have to say about her now.

She shook the thought off and sat up, head clearing slowly. Bright light peeped around the sides of her blackout curtains, and that meant it was noon already. As fortune had it, this was Golden Week and that meant little Shinobu would be preparing lunch for everyone. Everyone would be there.

Kitsune tossed another bottle of water down her throat and stowed away the blackout curtains. She scowled at the mess that was her room and vowed to clean it - or at least three tatami's worth - after lunch. Then she swiftly changed out of last night's clothes, doused herself with a pleasant Western body spray to disguise her unwashed scent and threw on a set of her usual - and surprisingly modest, in this case - indoor clothes.

She got to the table just in time. It seemed the Ronins had requested their lunches upstairs, so that left Motoko and the younger girls at the main table.

"Captain! Good morning, ma'am!" Kaolla leapt onto Kitsune's back from what felt like a great height.

After a precarious moment, she chuckled and faced forward. "G'mornin', Marine-on-my-back! We've an essential milit'ry project t'day. Y'see that supply train, loaded wi'food?" The young woman pointed at the table, which was absolutely laden with Shinobu's best. "If there's any o'that left when we're done, th'enemy'll use it t'fuel their army! You've gotta help us finish ev'ry last scrap!"

Kaolla cackled and released her hold on Konno's shoulders, falling to the ground quite gracefully and taking off for the table. "Eat it all, eat it all!"

Kitsune followed the hyperactive young girl to the table and sat at Motoko's side, preferring that to getting elbowed every time Kaolla took a mouthful. "Mornin', Tokomoko!"

The serious girl didn't even bat an eyelid. "Mitsune, a parcel came for you this morning. I kept the others from opening it for you." She reached into her gi and extracted a thin brown cuboid. "It feels somewhat like a book. Have you published?"

Kitsune opened her eyes fully for the first time that day, took the parcel and looked at it closely. "Nothin' like that, Motoko. An' thanks for keepin' this safe for me. Naw, there's no way I'd ever get published. 'M nowhere near as good as any published authors yet." She tore the package open and, without really registering what it was, set it down on the table next to her.

"Mitsune. You have a remarkable tolerance for different reading materials. I must confess, I found it very difficult to move away from Murakami's literature when I started really reading. To see you read Chaucer one day and ... this ... the next is very strange to me."

Kitsune looked up with an eyebrow raised and saw that Motoko was examining the book. Then it registered with her just which book it was. She closed her eyes and waited for the burst of anger.

Motoko's voice again. "This is ... us? We're in a manga?"

Su and Sara were behind her instantly, peering intently over the martial girl's shoulder. Sara pouted. "I'm not in it!"

Kitsune sat back, wishing she'd been just a bit more together. "Nah, not yet. Y'only got here abou'a year ago, so you're not in th'first few volumes. You'll show up sooner or later, so no worries. Shinobu prob'ly turns up later that volume, or maybe righ' at th'beginning of th'next."

"I'm... in a manga?" Shinobu's eyes betrayed her utter confusion at the situation. She wanted to be famous, she didn't want others to know how she doted over Keitaro. "Auuuu..." Her confusion came out in that long and uncertain syllable.

"Is this the final version?" Motoko was at a page about halfway through this first volume and her voice had gone quite cold.

"Nah. 'E said e'd send me a verion t'approve b'fore sending it off t'the publishers." Kitsune rather hoped the martial girl's coldness would leave soon.

"Good. I would like to request that you change my clan's name to something else. I do not believe any member of the Rouzeki would wish to be associated with these ... comic-book antics. Special attacks and so on." The coldness had gone, even though Motoko spoke with such formality that most people would have had difficulty telling the difference.

Kitsune opened an eye. "Hadn't thought'a'that, 'Tokomoko. 'M' sorry ... I'll change it t'somethin' innocent, like Eyeme or sommat. 'Sat okay wi'you?"

"It is. Thank you, Mitsune. If the truth be told, I am rather proud that a representation of myself has appeared in mainstream media, though it is sufficiently unlike me to cause me to ask that the name be changed." She closed the manga and put it back, only for Kaolla and Sara to snatch it up and start fighting over it.

"Haha! I'm in it from volume one! Look, he put me on the ceiling!" Kaolla hurled herself back into her seat and laid the book down between her and Sara, open on an early page. "You wrote the scripts for these things, right? You got me perfect!"

Kitsune chuckled. "I did, yeah. Glad t'hear it, Su. Tried m'hardest, after all!"

"I would like to read it thoroughly when you are finished, Su." Motoko started on her food, having no further time to devote to the subject at hand.

Kitsune knew she hadn't captured the girl's personality properly when relating their stories to Akamatsu. "It's just, y'know, you're such a stabilisin' factor as y'are that writing y'properly would'a stopped a whole lot of th'stories in their tracks. I needed a more flawed character for th'sake o' th'plot. An' there'll be proper stories written about'chu someday, none of this manga crap. You're the kinda person who does remarkable things."

Motoko finished her bowl, having eaten with the surprising speed and grace that seemed to accompany all of her actions. "I thank you for the compliments, Mitsune, but all the same, I will wait to see what happens. It is best to see how I react in future situations than define myself based on the here and now. Many things may yet change."

"Oh, quit bein' so wise." Kitsune waggled her chopsticks to show it was a joke, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at Motoko's lips. Su churned through the manga at a scary rate, with Sara reading over her shoulder. Shinobu sat at the head of the table, casting nervous glances at the manuscript every now and again. She ate in fits and starts.

Kitsune realised, after a moment or two of watching the young girl's erratic movements, that this was not because of the book. "What's wrong, Shinobu?"

"Aa!" The girl looked as though someone had just caught her stealing cookies. "Nothing! Nothing at all's the matter, Kitsune! Thankyou for asking!"

"Maehara." Motoko's voice cut under the other sounds around the table. "Please, tell us what is troubling you. We are your friends and nothing you say will reduce you in our opinion." The statement was issued with such confidence that Shinobu stopped trembling.

Kitsune nodded to herself. _Motoko's way too clever to make an interesting manga character. Such a reasonable girl._

The chefette opened her mouth, and after a couple of false starts, she spoke her piece.

"I've been... worried about Senior Urashima all day! He wasn't anywhere last night, and he came in just after I woke up to start making everyone's breakfasts. And ... I know this will sound really stupid ... but I'm sure he smelt of alcohol. And I'm really worried because I don't know what made him get drunk enough to smell like that! I hope it isn't anything bad ..."

"As expected from Maehara. Her concerns are quite selfless. Mitsune, you drink. You too know roughly what he is like. Do you have any idea of what might have made him drink?" Motoko again, this time rationalising and attempting to analyse the situation, while Shinobu blushed furiously at her seat, just about managing to finish her food.

"Ah gotta say, I ain't sure. Knowing 'im, 'e's tryin' new ways a'dealin' wi'th'stresses we all put 'im through every day. He'll probably pinch some a'old woman Haruka's cigarettes someday soon, then decide against those too. Can't imagine 'im beomin' an alcoholic, no-sir." Kitsune lied flawlessly. It was one of many little tricks she had picked up to wind people around her fingers. She was almost apologetic for hiding the truth, but had instantly decided that it would be much better to lay a trail that brought the other girls closer to empathy with the landlord rather than reveal her part in his intoxication and corruption. Apologies could wait until they were necessary.

Kitsune considered herself over the last few minutes of lunch. Shinobu had relaxed after hearing the resident alcoholic's opinion of Keitaro's situation. Motoko had started reading the manga, pausing when she came to well-written passages or particularly artistic pages. Everyone was quiet after Sara and Su disappeared again, and Kitsune used the time to analyse her behavioural tendencies. She considered her ability to lie at a moment's notice and her capacity to make people behave the way she wanted them to with carefully-placed words and clever nuances. She remembered something Haruka had said a long while ago.

_"It's an amazing skill, getting people to do what you want without them knowing. You gotta be a pretty nasty piece of work to go through with it, though."_

She didn't notice that everyone else had finished. She didn't even register her empty bowl being taken from in front of her. The first she knew of it was a strong, slender hand on her shoulder.

"Mitsune." The voice was, of course, Motoko's. "It is plain you are distressed about something. Would you like to discuss it?"

Kitsune craned her head around to look up at the swordswoman. There she was, a good five years younger but oh so much wiser... and so benevolent it was terrifying. Kitsune almost cringed away from the serenity that made Motoko's every nuance, but instead she lied again. "Don't worry 'bout it, Motoko. Little bit a'regret, combined wi'a choice I already know th'answer to. It's not a problem. Jus' needs some courage." She smiled, and felt relief wash over her as Motoko nodded and withdrew her hand.

"Courage will not be a problem for you, Mitsune. You showed a great reserve with Naru. Merely think of that moment again, and I am sure you will gather the willpower necessary to go through with your chosen course of action. I wish you luck - if you wish to speak further, I will be training on the veranda. Shinobu?"

"Ah... yes?" The chef turned from the washing up with her brow quirked and a burst of soap suds smeared across her forehead. Kitsune couldn't help but grin at the girl's unwitting cuteness.

"May I ask you to prepare an additional place for lunch and dinner tomorrow? My elder sister has expressed a desire to visit, to check up on my training. Urashima has permitted me to offer her food and board for as many nights as she feels she needs to assess my current ability." Motoko clasped her hands and bowed, making the request very formal.

Shinobu stammered for a moment, completely unsure of how to deal with the fact that Motoko was actually bowing to her. "Puh... please don't feel you have to ask so formally, Miss Rouzeki! I'd love to make meals for your sister as well! Tsuruko likes mushrooms, doesn't she?"

Motoko stood straight again. "She does indeed, Maehara. But please do not put yourself out for one of our clan. It does not matter what you cook, it will still be far better than the ordinary fare served in the clan halls."

"No, no, it's no problem at all!" Shinobu waggled her hand in that peculiar way that said "It's nothing, really." all by itself. "We needed a mushroom meal soon anyway, so it's helping me out somewhat!"

Kitsune caught another smile threatening to land on Motoko's lips.

"Thank you very much, Miss Maehara." The swordswoman clasped her hands and bowed again, making Shinobu blush even more under her current soapy sheen. "I will see you later. Mitsune." She nodded to them both and departed the room.

Kitsune almost laughed when she was gone. She looked at Shinobu's bemused little face and giggled madly, until the younger girl looked fit to burst with irritation. "It's jus'..." Kitsune offered by way of explanation. "Jus' that'chu got so embarrassed... it was almost like y'were in love wi'her instead'a Keitaro for a moment there!" Further giggling. "And... th' bubbles... it was so rom-com I could'a cried!"

Shinobu chuckled nervously and got back to washing the dishes as soon as she thought it was safe to.

Kitsune forced herself to stop giggling, and stood from the table. "Right! Looks like you've got everything under control here, so I'll be on my way. Reckon I'll watch Motoko train for a little bit. If Tsuruko's here tomorrow, Motoko'll be goin' all ou' w'her trainin'. That oughtta be somethin' t'watch."

"Mm." Shinobu had turned quiet all of a sudden. She turned back to the sink.

Kitsune shrugged and left the kitchen.

* * *

"I have a question as well!"

Naru turned to Mutsumi with a scathing sneer. "Let me guess, you're just like this knucklehead when it comes to differential trig and you want me to explain it for the sixth time?"

"Hey now! Don't be so mean to Mutsumi!" Keitaro stepped in on the defensive.

Naru turned her head straight back to him, a different kind of anger colouring her cheeks. "Just because you got a pretty girl sitting at the table with you, don't think that makes her immune to being stupid! Cah, this is irritating... Fine. Miss Otohime, what do you need explaining?"

Mutsumi waggled her hand and chuckled nervously. "Oh my, all this fuss. I wanted to ask... Mister Urashima, if it's alright..." Her voice became just that little quieter and she caught the landlord's eyes with a beautiful, innocent gaze. "Would I be able to join the household for breakfasts in the morning? I think it would help us study together, because we could start sooner after breakfast. Would that... be okay?"

"And once again, I feel like I'm not even a part of the conversation." Naru slumped in her chair and threw Keitaro a Look.

Entangled in Mutsumi's hazel eyes, he didn't notice it at all. Words came out of his mouth as though they had had to fight through treacle to break free. "That... would be fine, Mutsumi. I'm sure everyone will appreciate the company! I'll ask Shinobu when we're all finished here, okay?"

Naru watched as a little blush appeared on Mutsumi's cheeks and her thanks came out in short breaths. It was an art of seduction, and it was just so... childish of her! Did she even realise that she was belittling herself?

Naru sighed and looked back down at her problem sheet. Trigonometry inside differentiation. It was a bitch, but what could you do?

She got back to work.

* * *

Everyone except the three Ronins had gathered to watch Motoko Rouzeki's afternoon training session. They loved to watch her in action - it was so completely unlike any other martial art they had seen that it was beautiful, and unexpected. Every training session was a dance, an exquisite ballet.

Motoko stood in a trimmed training suit. She had two lengths of wood, each about two feet long, hooked into her waistband with the handles resting on her hips. There was also an identical piece of wood strapped to the outside of each of her lower legs, where ankle-holsters were often seen on secret agents in spy movies.

Each of these pieces of wood was a seamlessly-sheathed sword. The hilt of each weapon fit perfectly with the scabbard, and there wasn't a hand-guard to be seen. All four weapons were the same, except that the ankle-swords had bamboo pegs driven through small holes halfway down them. These kept the sword secured in its' scabbard, so it could be used as a cudgel. The swords suspended at her waist had the holes for such pegs, but these were not filled and the swords could be drawn at any time. A further uniquity of these swords was a simple but efficient mechanism involving holes and independent, two-ended metal clamps that basically allowed Motoko to attach any one of the weapons to any other one, in any combination (if bamboo pegs were in the right places). There were two types of connector - a short and solid one that basically extended the haft of the weapons linked together, and a chain-link connector that could make combinations like nunchaku or a three-part staff.

Motoko's use of these odd interchanging mechanisms made her practices stunning to watch. She would be on the defensive against an unseen opponent, wielding two of the blades by themselves - and the next moment, she would have disembowelled the imaginary foe with a speedily-assembled naginata. She would switch from two fifty-four inch polearms to a hundred-and-fourteen inch double-ended halberd to a fifty-eight inch nunchaku without a single break in her movement.

The promise of seeing two of the Rouzeki clan in an assessment duel sang out to those who watched Motoko practice regularly. Her one-sided duels were exciting enough - the sight of two in combat would doubtless thrill them. Kitsune made a mental note to prepare popcorn.

The sun drew down as Motoko continued her drilling. Shinobu came up to the roof to watch, a teatowel hooked into her belt. She kept wiping her hands on it - her fingers looked white and puffy, as though she'd been in water for much too long.

Kitsune excused herself after a while. It would be much more fun watching the two Rouzekis duel it out tomorrow. She passed Naru, whose curiosity had finally been piqued by the chorus of oohs and aahs Motoko's practice was drawing.

_Where-ever Naru is, Keitaro can't be far behind..._

Kitsune broke into an undignified run. Right now, though she didn't know whay, she wanted to stay away from him. She didn't want his face in her mind, didn't want the shame of talking to him after all of this time. And somewhere inside, she didn't want the chance that he might follow up, might turn out to be interested in her, might turn out to want her for something other than the curves and proportions that set other men aflame.

Motoko parried a nonexistent blow behind her; she lunged forward and diembowelled her imaginary foe as the door closed behind Kitsune's shapely back.

The writer padded through the Inn, thoughts tumbling through her head like tickets in a tombola. She grabbed blindly at one. _Get away._ There was only one way she knew would take her away for sure, at least until tomorrow.

Five minutes later and she was pulling on her slinkiest dress, peppering herself with perfume and frizzing her hair out for yet another night out on the tiles. She never noticed Haruka's footfalls outside her room, or the saddened sigh the older woman let out.

All she detected was the lingering smell of smoke.

* * *

_Okay, so no killing! Cliffhangers are good for the soul! I hope you like this instalment, though I'm aware not much happens in it. This and the next couple are likely to be diluted as compared to the story that follows, because I need to re-establish the Love Hina characters as I believe they would be if, as I've written here, the manga and anime characters were merely inspired by a real-life situation._

_I hope you all enjoy the story so far, and I'd love to incorporate any questions you might have into the next chapter. I do promise to take no longer than three weeks to write it. ;_

ーゾウゼン！


	4. The Dress, The Armour, The Walkabout

Tokyo is a city of sin.

The sun dips below the horizon, and the sky turns pink for a little while. And then the pink light moves down to the earth, blaring out from a thousand garish neon signs. Each sign hovers above an inviting doorway. Through each doorway, a constant passage of the youth of Japan, who have grown into a Westernised country. Alcohol and sex and loud music fill the city centre from dusk to dawn.

Kitsune is a creature of sin.

In folklore, Kitsune are trickster spirits. They appear to the human eye as beautiful women; or, when the fancy strikes them, as effeminate but elegant men. In their true form, they resemble an anthropomorphised fox. They can have up to nine tails, depending on the potency of their magical abilities.

They are said to wander the Earth looking for love that will stay with them forever. To a Kitsune, the ordinary human soul is a boring thing indeed. Those people capable of feeling rich love will keep a Kitsune's interest for some time, but not forever. And when the Kitsune gets bored, her victim's souls falls away and they are left bereft of what the Japanese call Gen Ki (Primary Spirit). A man must be truly remarkable in soul and in dedication to win a Kitsune forever; and when he does, the Kitsune finally disrobes herself, casts away her magic and becomes mortal, and lives happily to the end of her days.

But before their mantle is discarded, a Kitsune is a cruel thing. She will wander the streets of the city and search for a beast of a man, pull him in towards herself and suck out his Gen Ki, leaving him even sadder and more meaningless than before.

Of course, the fact that our Kitsune's behaviour seems so much like the creature of which I have just spoken... it is nothing more than coincidence.

Smoke drifts through the air in warm, nicotine-stained clouds. It is a blend of cigarettes and the finest cigars, cologne and perfume, and it intoxicates her.

She smells an excited European, his hormones turning into scent that washes through the room. It is a shame to her that the Japanese lack so many of the scent glands this one man has. It would make the art of seduction so much easier if the glands had not disappeared over time.

She smells a professional woman, her freshly dry-cleaned suit releasing the barest hint of cleaning solvents into the air. This smell accompanies a hint of apple, a rare but tasteful fragrance. It could be fun, trying to bed a reticent businesswoman...

She smells a frightened child. There should be no children here. The fear manifests as the tiniest hint of acrid vinegar, the youth as the scent of innocent, clean sweat. She wnted to find the child and reach out and take her someplace safe... but then her eyes passed over the corner of the room, where a young girl had a group of high-strung men converging on her. There was no way Kitsune could help her fight off all of those lustful males.

Maybe the bouncer could, though.

She made her way over to the burly man at the door, only to find that a plain young man in drab clothing was already animatedly calling on the bouncer's sense of duty to go and get that poor girl out of this situation, which she should never have been allowed to get into in the first place.

It was only after the bouncer trundled off to deal with this blatant unpleasantness that Kitsune stepped forward. "Good man," she said.

The plainly dressed fellow turned to face her and he smiled, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "He is, yeah. All bouncers are, really. They're employed to make sure untoward things don't happen, and they're good at it."

"Didn't mean him," Kitsune said, with a grin. "You came over here and drew the muscle-man's attention to you for the sake of that girl. That probably took a load more courage than what he's doing now."

One of the dodgy men from earlier was flat on the floor; the others were in the process of leaving the club, and quite quickly.

"It's one of the things you come across in life that has to be done." The man shrugged. "Not a question of courage or fear or any of that. Plain duty, I guess."

The fox smiled. "Duty exercised where everyone else looked away. Fully deserving of a drink, on me. What say you?"

He looked at her askance, then nodded.

-------------------

"One through four.

Never more.

Ever sure.

Fight for."

Kaolla Su and Motoko Rouzeki faced off. The taller swordswoman needed the training; Kaolla, as a member of her home royal family, had a very different martial art under her belt and was willing to pit it against Motoko to help.

Kaolla heard the words from Motoko's mouth, and uttered a mantra of her own.

"Corto, Medio, Largo,

Hakbang - Fraile, Ritriada.

Dance and spin and change.

Throw them for a loop."

Motoko's stances shifted; Kaolla detected it and pounced. She held a twenty-eight inch Bolo in each hand, each one a machete with a waved blade. Her left whipped forward, slicing the air in a sraight line towards the taller girl's abdomen.

In the last possible second, Motoko moved. From her left hip-scabbard, she withdrew one of the Quartet swords and parried Kaolla's first blow. The coloured girl brought her other sword around in a slicing motion - Motoko unsheathed another of the Quartet and blocked that as well.

One, two, three more blows launched from the MolMolian's aggressive stance, then she rolled back, out of Motoko's range.

No such luck, with a Rouzeki.

Motoko assembled a sword and two sword/hilt units into a polearm and nearly took off Kaolla's head as the younger girl unfolded from her roll. She took the polearm apart as she moved in closer to Kaolla. The younger girl backstepped frantically, reached the wall and immediately used it to her advantage. She pushed off it, pivoted around her own feet, hit the ground and slammed a foot back into the wall as she did. Her hands snuck behind her torso and traded the Bolo swords for a pair of fairly short daggers. These shot up as the girl slid under Motoko, and the MolMolian's loose wrists were the only thing that kept Motoko from bleeding out through the thighs.

The swordswoman scowled and rescabbarded her swords. "Good," she said. "You're very, very good, Su. Thankyou very much for this opportunity. Shall we go again?"

The young coloured girl was at her throat before she'd finished the sentence. Panic seized Motoko; she ducked, grabbed the girl's feet, hurled her up and over, but not quite out of range. Su had switched again, and was holding an Espada sword in her left hand. Motoko felt the flat of the blade bounce heavily off her shoulder and winced. Had that blow connected with blade-edge, it would have cut straight through her gi and her shoulder.

Motoko did not ask for the next bout. She connected three sword-hilt units with chain links and lashed out behind herself. This was a three-part staff. A little more complex than the nunchaku to wield, but an awful lot more devastating. She heard the loud crack of metal parrying the furthest wooden sheath, and turned with her fourth sword bare and ready. Su had blocked the three-part staff, and was hurtling toward Motoko with a Bolo in her off-hand. She looked to be holding her on-hand with care. Had she sprained it, blocking the main strike?

They fell into close-quarters fighting. Metal rang, the harsh high pitch of Filipino blades dissonant against the mellow hum of one of the finest Japanese weapons forged since the Sengoku Jidai. Blow upon blow flew toward each of the combatants, and neither let a strike through.

Motoko had always been stunned by Kaolla's knowledge of martial techniques. It stood to reason that a young princess would have been educated in the arts of war, but Motoko had never suspected that Kaolla had so much knowledge of physical fighting. It never came across in the girl's stance outside of the fight. But Su had explained that already. She had been trained never to let her knowledge show, never to assume a martial stance unless it was absolutely necessary, to feign clumsiness so that if assassins ever came, they would not be strong enough to hurt her.

It was with great reluctance that Su had first offered to help Motoko train. She'd had to confront a few old demons in doing so, face some fears she had not wanted to deal with just yet... if ever. She did not want to go back home, Motoko knew that. But in acknowledging her proficiency with Arnis, she was almost admitting that she was royalty in her home country, that she did belong there. And she was making that sacrifice to help Motoko through the coming trial.

The sharp sound of the flat of a sword hitting flesh. Motoko had finally borne through Su's intense toe-to-toe combat and won out. Her arms were exhausted, but she had made a welt on the younger girl's arm before receiving any injury. This was a victory.

Su looked like she was in quite a lot of pain. She turned to face Motoko and bowed; "Sorry, Tokomoko! I don't think I can carry on right now." Her smile was warm, but the blood had drained from her face.

"Su, is it your wrist?" Motoko was concerned. For blood to rush away from the skin was a sign of trauma.

"Yah," The younger girl hissed. She dropped her Espada and let her wrist hang as limp as she could make it. "Didn't expect that much force. You're strong, 'Toko. Use that in your fight tomorrow. Gonna have to ask you a favour right now, though. Can you help me get into the city?"

Motoko blinked. "Surely an ambulance would be better?"

A wan smile from the girl. "I don't want my family knowing, or worrying. There's a doc in the city who does these things on the sly. He'll help out."

The swordswoman felt regret threatening to take her over from the inside. Hot remorse was trying to build up in her throat and behind her eyes. But she swallowed it and nodded. "I'm sorry for this, Kaolla. I have strong painkillers in my room; would you like me to bring you some of them before we set out?"

The MolMolian's eyes were half-lidded already - she looked to be in a nasty state of shock. She had the strength to smile and nod, and lie carefully down. "Migh' be out for a little while..."

Motoko nodded, short of breath, frightened. She turned and left the room and ran as fast as she could.

------------------

Keitaro Urashima wandered the Inn. His head was full of strange, new thoughts.

He considered Kitsune, and last night. It had been exciting, in a forbidden way. It had been foreign - he had never felt so vulnerable before. And yet, he had trusted her. He'd let her take down his defences and explore what was behind them, and she was gentle in her exploration.

And he had enjoyed it?

A part of him - a huge part - had been so thankful to Naru for being angry and defensive, because it allowed him the certainty that she would never get close enough to truly hurt him. That guarantee was gone with Kitsune. She had moved in so close he could feel her breath in his mind, so close that even now, his lips twitched in anticipation of a kiss that wasn't there. And it frightened the hell out of him.

Perhaps he was the same as everyone else, after all. Not a clever guy who could get through on willpower alone. Not an unlocked musical prodigy. Not a hero. Perhaps he was just a confused young man muddling through life in the same way as everyone else. And perhaps, on top of that knowledge, the idea that he should seem so strong to everyone else was flawed. Maybe he could - even should - let someone close enough to see his flaws.

Was that his problem? People called him sensitive - but that was to the pain of others. Did he ever really let enough of himself out to seem real?

Was that why he always felt so isolated around strangers? He had seen so many people who knew how to play the crowd, how to pull a group of people around them and make themselves into the centre of the group - benevolently. It was a Western approach, but it worked in today's somewhat Westernised society.

Was he trying to be a traditional Japanese person where tradition was failing in favour of flexibility?

No. That was self-aggrandisement. Keitaro Urashima was nothing but a shy, confused man who should have grown out of his shell five years ago.

...was Kitsune the answer?

Motoko dashed past, Su in her arms.

...that was strange.

------------------

_A\N : Okay, so, four months. That was really bad, and I hope to be up to speed from now on. I can't promise anything, but I will try. Add to that the appalling shortness of this chapter... well, I hope you guys will stick with me nonetheless._

_In this chapter, we find that Su has a decent amount of training in a martial art which is these days referred to as Arnis. It is the system of Filipino Martial Arts, which is practised in many different ways and focuses on adaptability. This makes her a very good drilling partner for Motoko, whose Quartet swords are also designed for great adaptability in combat._


	5. The Dress, Part II

_**June 29th, 2012**: Editation! Only tiny changes to this chapter as I still like it and it still reflects the characters in the way I want it to. On track to start adding to the story proper very soon!_

* * *

"You've got a strange quality about you."

The 'good man' blinked. A moment later he chuckled, raised his glass and took a sip of the amber liquid inside. Just a few shades lighter than his eyes, Kitsune noticed.

"I'm going to guess some things about your life," she said. "Stop me if I go too far wrong. You have a girlfriend. She trusts you, and not lightly – you've proven to her in the past that you can be trusted. You've always tried to do the right thing by other people, no matter how much it hurts you personally."

A small nod, an even smaller smile.

"She convinced you at some point to be just that little bit selfish and you took her up on it. You still wonder what the world would have been like, had you not given in to temptation and kissed her... I'm going to say just under a year ago."

The smile expanded. It was slowly becoming a grin.

"This doesn't come for free, though. You criticise yourself. There isn't a single thought runs through your head without you checking it for selfishness. And it hurts, and your girl has to reassure you that you really truly are a good person, even though you see all these flaws in your own mind and you think they are unforgiveable."

His face was blank. It was not a very good poker-face, though. Strain showed – the hint of anger in the flash of his eyes, the hint of sadness in the tension of his throat.

"I never asked your name," Kitsune prompted him.

He took a second to reply. He made it look as though he had to swallow his mouthful of drink before he could speak. Kitsune knew otherwise.

He coughed. "I'm Haitani. Masayuki Haitani."

Konno Mitsune laughed out loud. It pealed out against the murky rumble of the nightlife. She gathered herself quickly and started at him. "Haitani! A friend to Keitaro Urashima, the one who went all quiet about two and a half years ago, eventually let you know he'd become the Hina manager but always was just that little more subdued whenever you saw him after that? Boy, university really did do good things to you."

"You... you know Keitaro? You're a resident of his inn?"

She smirked, then saw the steel in his eye. "Hey now. I may be a tenant but I haven't landed a blow on him, not ever. I haven't made life much easier for him, though, and that's one thing I sorely regret. He could have done without the hurt he's had from us these last couple years – or at the very least, I could have tempered that for him. Maybe that can change? Who knows?"

"I'm a little out of the loop," Haitani said. "But from what I knew, Kei was hung up over some honey-haired girl who gave him a pretty hard time. He was also not coping very well with the flak he got for being a male landlord with only female tenants. And I don't know if you knew, but people have been talking all around. Ever since they saw he and that girl fighting in the town one time, maybe a year and a half ago... There have been whispers. I've tried to put them down but I can't, when I've not been paying attention for so long. That sort of spectacle raises eyebrows, which in turn start lips flapping, and well. You know what the rumour mill can do."

Kitsune closed her eyes and leant back into the plush seat. She let out a long breath through pursed lips. "I hadn't thought of that. They must say terrible things. Have the police had to entertain any particularly overzealous housewives who don't have a shred of evidence between them, yet?"

"No, thank heavens. But I can't imagine something like that being far off. I hope this doesn't take him – or Granny Hina – down. Are those two still enemies?"

"No... yes?" Kitsune looked at the ceiling. "Honestly? I don't know. Keitaro would do anything for Naru, but he'd do anything for any one of us. And she... just jilts him every time he tries anything. It feels staged, almost like she's playing hard-to-get, but sometimes she opens her mouth a bit too wide and says something that really hurts him. And she has most definitely hurt him before. You know he's clumsy, well... you trip over your own ankles straight into a girl, panic, grab out for something to at least slow your fall and see how much pain you receive for yanking her skirt down. Frankly, if that was deliberate then he'd earned a looksee out of sheer cunning – and of course, that's what she assumed it was."

Haitani scowled. "That doesn't sound good. What happened then? Has it happened again since?"

"She straightened herself up and kicked him while he was down. Hard. A lot. We had to tell her later that she'd kicked him hard enough that he'd thrown up and we'd had to call the doctor round. I think that scared her – the worst she's ever meted out since then is a shoulder-punch. But I think..." Something made her throat constrict a little, but she spluttered her way through it. "I think the worst part was what he said to us when we finally had him in bed and all the fuss was over. He said: 'You shouldn't be going to this much effort...'"

Haitani's lips moved along with hers, mouthing the next three words as she repeated them: "'...I deserved it.' And you can imagine, we disagreed. A lot. Nobody deserves that."

The man shrugged. "I'll put it in solid terms: that is quite simply domestic abuse. And it's a sad fact of the world that it's assumed on a grand scale that only women can be the victim. Which means that most men have no idea what to do about it, or even how to recognise it in the first place. I need you to promise me something, Mitsune Konno."

She blinked, then reasoned that he must have heard her name from Keitaro. "What is it?"

"You keep that head on your shoulders. Because... you recognised the way I think. Constantly criticising. Constantly battering myself into doing only the right thing, not the selfish thing. And you... you're the same. You keep yourself hidden away when there's no way of making the right thing and your own loyalties coexist. I need you to side with the right thing. If Naru starts to hurt him again... I need you to tell her that she's wrong to do it. And I need you to explain to her what domestic abuse is. And... I need you to make her understand that she is making herself into a criminal. That no matter her justification, her actions are not permissible. Can you do that for me?"

"But Naru isn't... she isn't a bad person..." Kitsune felt herself finally starting to break up.

"Maybe not. But if she isn't, then she's solidly on her way to becoming one. You have to stop her, Mitsune. And here's a thing: that selfish act my fiancée goaded me into? I don't regret it. Not even slightly. You'd do well to be selfish, too. Just the once. Claim what you want, and fix any damage caused. And don't doubt yourself, because... because you really truly are a good person."

Kitsune smirked, a little acid. There was a tear on her cheek and she recognised her own words being turned back on her. "Did you have to say that?"

He shrugged again. "It's true. Now, I have to go in a moment - would you like me to walk you home?"

She blinked hard, dried her eyes on the tablecloth, and stood up. "I think I need to walk alone to digest all of this," she said. "But, Mayasuki Haitani, it was an absolute pleasure to meet you."

He handed over a business card with a smile.

She grinned through her bleary eyes, pocketed it, turned, and left.

* * *

_Q: __**Who is Motoko Rouzeki?**_

_A: She is Motoko. To answer this properly I do need to supply a little info / restate what came before. Motoko Rouzeki is an accomplished martial artist, and an extremely observant and wise young woman. She is the character on whom Kitsune has based Motoko Aoyama in the manga she is working on alongside Ken Akamatsu. She specifically asked for the manga-character's family name to be changed as she did not want Motoko Aoyama's mercurial behaviour and 'special attacks' to be associated with the Rouzeki family. Kitsune has agreed to this, justifying the manga-Motoko by saying that the real Motoko is far too strong a stabilising force to be a dramatically effective character. Which of course leaves the question: how can this author possibly hope to make her an effective character if she is to cause no conflict? This author doesn't rightly know yet, but the fact is that her character can be seen dotting Real Life, so it makes sense to recreate her here._


End file.
